


the men from the train

by Anonymous



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: ?? - Freeform, Abuse of Corpse, Anal Sex, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Comeplay, Death Rituals, Forbidden Love, Graphic Description of Corpses, Hand Jobs, Killer Harry, Killer Louis, M/M, Murder Kink, Murderers, Mutilation, Necrophilia, Period-Typical Homophobia, Revenge, Secret Relationship, Stalking, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-19 11:49:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22610449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: In 1912, word doesn't travel fast or far enough to connect a string of murders to the same killer.  In this case, it's a pair of killers who seek to live out their revenge again and again.  It's the rails that truly keep their crimes hidden.  Such a shame that anyone has yet to make that connection.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15
Collections: Anonymous Unicorns





	the men from the train

**Author's Note:**

> READ THE TAGS. MURDER. BLOOD. GORE. ABUSE OF CORPSES. You have been warned. Have a nice day. 
> 
> This fic is inspired by the officially unsolved Villisca axe murders of 1912 in Villisca, Iowa. If you're interested in reading about the hundreds of people this axe murderer is actually suspected of killing in a similarly creepy way, check out the book The Man From The Train by Bill James. The way they've connected all the murders over the United States after researching and connecting newspaper articles is quite a wild ride. I highly recommend.

The moon was full and bright as it illuminated the yard and cast long shadows. They connected to keep the path of someone hidden who did not want to be seen. There was just enough light that there was no need for any lantern to find their way up to the back side of the house. Even so, they’d been watching the house for so long they wouldn’t need much to guide them.

The windows were screenless and propped open wide to let the air of the summer night cool the house as the occupants slept, the light fabric of the curtains fluttering on the breeze. It was the convenience of summer that eliminated the step of prying one of the kitchen windows open, the room least likely to be occupied at such an hour. 

With a small boost, the first man hefted his way through the gap and landed as silently as a cat on his bare feet. A quick glance at his surroundings and then the sign was given and two pairs of boots handed through the window along with the their tools of the trade. The metal blade of the axe glinted as it caught the moonlight despite the etching from years of use that made the surface dull. The handle was worn smooth and slid easily through calloused hands as their grip was adjusted. 

The second man pulled himself over the ledge, his entrance not as sleek but the result was the same despite flailing limbs. Another pair of bare feet joined the first silently and a glance was shared as the second axe was passed off. There was no need for verbal cues as they both took the stairs quickly, their steps so light that even the creakiest of stairs didn’t bend under their weight. 

The master bedroom was first and they easily rounded the bed, one man to each side. The sheet was loose where it had been kicked to the end of the bed which made it easy to lift up and over the sleeping couple, covering them from head to toe. 

Another quick glance at the other and the axes were raised and brought down hard in the same motion. There was a sickening crack as the blunt end of the axe impacted, synchronized for both strikes to land at the same moment. The strength behind the blow easily crushed through bone and left a misshapen lump beneath the sheet that quickly soaked through with blood. 

It took several swings to be sure the deed had been done and then they broke apart to dispatch the rest of the family sleeping soundly in their beds in the same manner. It was done before anyone was aware of their presence. 

One final sweep of the house to be sure no living being had been missed and then they got to work. They’d done this all before, neither needing any direction as they moved around each other. With pillows, blankets, and heavy coats, they methodically blacked out each window and pulled the curtains tightly closed. They left no room for a stray beam of light to escape into the night, every latch and lock closed up tight. 

They reconvened at the foot of the first bed once they were done and their shoulders touched as they looked over their work. Louis, the shorter of the two, held a single lamp in his hand, flickering flame casting shadows over the dips and peaks of the sheet pulled over the bodies. The white linen remained unmarred to the victim’s shoulders where the bright red of blood had darkened to a deep rusty brown in the dim light. A smear showed the movement of one or the other, the last reflexes of the body in the minutes before death. 

It was from experience that the sheet was in place, a guard for splattering blood that came with the violent smashing of flesh. It also shielded the gruesome sight from Harry’s eyes who didn’t want to see the aftermath of mangled pieces left behind. It was Louis who ripped the sheet in half and tied it around the remains of their heads before dragging both bodies with a heavy thud to the floor. 

Side by side, the two men laid them out before they pulled their nightshirts up to their shoulders. The single lamp was placed on the floor, just far enough that it wouldn’t be knocked over with a careless tap. 

They stood together by limp feet and carefully helped the other undress with eager fingers. The simple, well worn work shirts came apart with each button slid through each hole and exposed the pale skin of their bodies that rarely saw the sun. Rough, calloused fingers followed the lines of their bodies to push the garments off each other’s shoulders, each discarded in the corner of the room. 

With their shoes already waiting for them by the window downstairs, their trousers fell to their feet easily once the buttons had been released down the front. They joined the shirts to the side. 

They stood naked in front of each other, wandering eyes taking each other in with appreciation. It wasn’t often that they were granted the privacy a house of the dead could award. The excitement already had them standing on end.

They came together until their bodies touched, delicate touches following unshaven jawlines as if they had all the time in the world. And they did -- for the rest of the night, at least. 

Their lips met in a slow kiss while stray pieces of straw fell to the floor when fingers moved into hair. The sweet smell of hay clung to their skin, evidence of their evening spent in the haymow of the barn where they’d lain in wait. 

It was routine for them now. The selection, the observation, the waiting. A farm house close to the tracks with no dog to raise any alarm and no neighbors who might see. Farm work was predictable and all they had to do was wait for the evening chores to be done for the head of the house to head in for supper. Careful patience for the light in each window to go out and then for the moment when everything went still. Those hours of anticipation only made everything more electric. 

Their kiss went from tender to heated within a moment as the adrenaline spurred them on. They joined the corpses on the floor and jostled the bodies as they fought each other for the dominant role. When it came down to it, neither of them cared who won. It was a game that played out between them whenever they had the time to spare. 

It was Harry who ended up pinned to the rug covered floor, the jar of lard swiped from the kitchen hastily opened for their purpose. He raised his hips to the other and didn’t hold anything back for their silent audience when fingers slicked with fat found their way between his cheeks. 

The rug was rough against his face where it was pressed down, breathing heavily as the heat of his lover pressed into his body. It was a delicious burn that made them both moan, skin slapping against skin without hesitation with no fear of witnesses that might overhear. 

That was how all this had begun, after all. 

As hired hands over a long summer in their youth, they’d been discovered by the farmer in a situation not unlike the one they were currently in out in the barn late one night. The man was set to rally a mob, alert the church and condemn them to hell, and have them run out of town without a cent for the hard work they’d done. 

As night had fallen, they did what they had to do. 

They’d been drifting ever since. Working through the weeks and escaping to relive the thrill and revenge of that first night over and over again. They were seasoned professionals now. They could hop on a train on Friday night and be back to their post by Monday morning without even a hair out of place. Separated by distance, their crimes had never been connected. They’d never left any witnesses. 

With shared living quarters at seasonal jobs, communal living left them few opportunities to live the life they truly wanted. Their weekends were a needed escape. It held together their sanity. 

Louis grunted above Harry, a telltale sign he was close to spilling. This was one of Harry’s favourite parts. 

With a groan, Louis pulled out shuffled on his knees to loom over the lifeless bodies. The fierce look that flashed in his eyes was dangerous, one that turned Harry on when it wasn’t directed at him. It was lingering from all the things they couldn’t have, all the threats to them that had been made because of it. This was Louis’ revenge. 

He came with long spurts over the naked torsos on the floor, marking them up with the seed of their sinful acts. He grunted his way through it as Harry watched, Harry reaching out to slide his fingers through the pools that had collected on the woman’s belly. 

He scooped it up and pressed it in between the woman’s legs, pushing it inside of her as one last spiteful act. She was still warm and he smiled knowing she would go to her grave with them inside her body. 

Louis pulled Harry to his knees, pressing his body back against his chest so his hands could strip at his still straining cock. Harry groaned as he stared at the mess already made of the bodies shot off without much prompting, his fluids joining the rest. 

They both stayed together while they caught their breath, the beauty of their work there before them. With a smirk, Harry swirled his fingertips through everything to mix them together. He made a show of pushing more of them deep into the woman’s body, his fingers coming out wet and sticky with it. Louis huffed out a laugh of amusement and pulled him up and into another kiss. That was Harry’s trademark and now it was time for his own. 

With a strong grip, Louis lifted one of the axes from where they had left them resting near the door and brought back with him. As Harry had done, he swiped his hand through their come and then brought it to the dead man’s flaccid penis. It was exactly what they had done that first night. It was their way of having the last word, of shaming the man who’d thought it his place to lay judgement, to turn the town against them. 

Harry’s hand joined his and they shared a look of solidarity. All men like this deserved what came next. 

Harry circled his hand around the man’s genitals and pulled them away from his cooling, limp body. The blade of the axe was sharp and didn’t take much coaxing to slide through skin when Louis positioned it at the base of the man’s prick. 

Like a butcher slicing off a prime cut of meat, Louis directed the blade until the whole of the severed organ was left in Harry’s large hand. 

It only took a rough shove to turn the man’s body onto his back and not much more effort to shove the bloody dick back into his lifeless body. The feeling of revenge was sweet. 

The rest of the night was their own to share, making use of the comfortable, plush furniture and mattresses for their own pleasure as many times as they could manage. 

In the early hours before the light of dawn, the pair made their rounds of the house one last time, committing the scene and experience to their collection of memories. They gathered the axes and tied up their boots, leaving the single lamp to burn to nothing there on the floor before slipping back into the night. They left their weapons together leaning against the side of the house, the first sign for someone to find that something was amiss. 

As they made their way across the field, the distant sound of the train whistle echoed eerily across the countryside. They were right on time. A quick wash in the stream and the deed was done, all evidence of their presence carried along the rails to the next unsuspecting town. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I may revisit this as a series of their killings if the mood strikes.


End file.
